


The Unexpected Hazards of Working SI

by mitsukai613



Series: The Lives of Harry and John's Friends Suck (but Secretly They Love It) [1]
Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Hendricks isn't paid enough, Jealousy, M/M, Murphy deserves a salary, Temper Tantrums
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1492690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has a new girlfriend. Marcone is unhappy for obvious reasons, and Murphy ends up getting caught in the crosshairs. She suddenly has an entirely new understanding for everything that annoys Harry about Marcone, and wishes she didn't. Of course, she also wishes that there were a course in her training entitled "How to Deal with an Infatuated Mob Boss and All of His Temper Tantrums". She can't help but think that everything would be a lot easier if she hadn't discovered that Marcone was actually better for Harry than the woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghostdreaming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostdreaming/gifts).



> So, I made this for a prompt ghostdreaming gave me a few fics back, and I decided to just go ahead and post it while I worked on a Thorin/Bilbo fic for The Hobbit, the first chapter of which will indeed be posted soon. In addition to that, I've got some stuff planned out for Merlin, Sherlock, Supernatural, and Star Trek, plus probably some others that I'm not currently thinking of, as well as one more Dresden fic and possibly another one of the prompts from ghostdreaming, but I haven't decided if I can do that one justice just yet, so I haven't started anything.

Murphy's POV

                I want to get it straight right now that I don't normally deal with mob arrests; that's serious business, and while I'm the head of a department, I'm the head of a department that's located in professional Siberia. We don't get serious cases, just cases that need to be swept neatly under the rug. 

                I figured out why I'd gotten this particular mob arrest when I arrived, though, because sitting primly on a chair in the lobby of one of his offices sat one Gentleman Johnny Marcone. He looked so annoyingly calm and serene that I'd have thought it was just another day for him if not for the cuffs that held his wrists together on his lap. He gave me a polite smile when he saw me and stood, walking neatly over to me as if his balance weren't distorted by his position at all, and when he spoke he almost fooled me into thinking we were about to go help save Dresden's ass from whatever he'd managed to piss off that week like we did whenever we met up with one another. The normalcy confounded me. 

                "Hello, Ms. Murphy," he told me, and I blinked once before I shook my head and went into cop mode. 

                "That's Lieutenant Murphy, Marcone. I'm arresting you, not going out for fucking coffee. What did you do this time anyway?" I asked him, and he gave me that indifferent, holier-than-thou smile one more time. 

                "The kind, if misguided, people at the Chicago Police Department believe that my meeting this morning involved a deal of a rather illegal nature. I'm sure that after looking into it a bit more, they will discover that it was all perfectly legitimate and aboveboard. As it stands, however, I suppose that I must go to booking again, correct?" 

                "It isn't like you haven't done this before, Marcone. You probably know protocol as well as me, by now. Have you been read your rights yet?" 

                "I have, yes, as they were putting my handcuffs on." 

                "Alright. Come on, then," I said, getting a good hold on the chain between his wrists and dragging him outside to my car. Well, not really dragging, honestly; he went willingly, face held to that perfect blank standard the whole way. I pressed down on his head to keep him from beaning himself as I got him into the back, and then went around to the driver's seat. He, of course, couldn't even do me the service of staying quiet on the way to headquarters.

                "Might I ask if you've seen Mr. Dresden recently? I've been attempting to get in touch with him for about a month, but it seems that he's blocked all of my numbers, including the ones I've never given him, which is quite the shock." Huh. That was... weird. He sounded almost hopeful, almost human. I mean, yeah, he was attempting to sound as above the world as ever, but there were differences from usual, faint but there. 

                "Dresden? He's at headquarters now, actually. He was helping me puzzle out a possible Red Court murder before I got called out. He's probably chatting with Melissa now, though." A splash of confusion flitted across his face, nearly too quick to be noticed, but he'd obviously wanted me to see because he wanted me to explain the name. I wasn't going to give him the pleasure, though; if he wanted to know, he could damn well ask like a normal person. He didn't, for a few moments, but then he finally gave into the curiosity and I really was shocked by how human and vulnerable he could actually be. 

                "Melissa? I don't believe I've heard that name in relation to SI before." I was getting a little suspicious, at that point. I knew a lot of people knew that I'd tangled with Marcone before, but that generally didn't mean that I was the one who got called to drive him to the station. 

                "Marcone, why did I get called to do this? There were plenty of officers already there who could have." 

                "I don't believe that that's an answer to my question." 

                "You answer mine and I'll answer yours." He gritted his teeth hard, and when he answered he nearly sounded as if he were in pain, as if his compliance was being ripped from the very core of him, but he did answer. And here I was thinking that he couldn't be forced to do anything he didn't want to do.

                "I requested it. I must say that I vastly prefer your company to that of my arresting officer." That was the moment that things became clear to me. 

                "Damn it, Marcone, did you request for me to come down here because you wanted to drill me on what Dresden's been doing?" He chuckled quietly. 

                "My question first, Ms. Murphy." That  _bastard._ I really did understand what Harry mean when he called him that, now; there was a decent chance that he was the most frustrating man alive to deal with. And he was always so smug about it! I mean, Harry's and his antics can be annoying, I'll admit that, but hey, at least he isn't smug. 

                "Melissa is the most recent officer to get exiled to SI. She mostly just works in the office, pushes papers and things, though, so I have no idea who she managed to piss off enough to get sent there. She's also Harry's new girlfriend." The surprise he displayed that time wasn’t to get me to explain anything. It was just surprise, pure and plain, mixing neatly with… was that disappointment? Oh, hell no. “I think I figured out the answer to that question I asked myself, Johnny.” He swallowed, thick and nearly painful sounding.

                “Is that so? Might I assume that it was in the affirmative?”

                “Yeah. So, did you spread the rumors then? That he was your lover? Or were those just accidental like the ones that go around with me and him or him and Thomas or him and literally everybody he’s spoken with for more than five minutes?”

“Accidental, I assure you. I hadn’t thought that Harry was prone to jumping into relationships so quickly. What, may I ask, is so special about this girl?” To be honest, I didn’t really know. Harry had met her, and then about a week later they’d been together.

                “If I had to guess I’d say it was because she made it obvious that she was interested. Normally most of the time Harry spends not being in a relationship with someone who wants a relationship with him is spent with that person making him realize that they want a relationship. Most people just kind of give up after a while, so he hasn’t been with many people.” He nodded, his fingers twining together, and I watched as he built up all of his walls again, as he straightened his face and cleared his eyes.

                “Ah. Well, I suppose she’s… perfectly nice, yes?” I couldn’t decide whether he was hoping for an answer in the positive or negative.

                “I don’t know her that well, but she seems sweet enough. I’ll probably know more soon; Harry usually makes it a point for me to get to know his girlfriends. He trusts my judgment on things like that.” Not that I knew why. My track record has been worse than his in that regard, and that’s really saying something if you know anything about his girlfriend history.

                “That’s… alright,” he said, and then he just stopped talking altogether. I’d never known him to do that, honestly; he always had some smart comment to make, and he generally found a way to get the last word. For him to do anything else was tantamount to any other person doing a full overhaul of their personality. I didn’t comment on it, though, because really it wasn’t my problem and we were pulling up to SI anyway. I helped him out and brought him inside and figured that whatever was going on in that twisty brain of his would soon be totally irrelevant to me and mine because he was going directly into a holding cell where he wouldn’t cause trouble until his cornucopia of lawyers came, found some obscure thing that was handled incorrectly with the arrest and got him out on a technicality, at which point they would politely explain how their client had done absolutely nothing illegal and was a law-abiding member of society who was being persecuted by the police for absolutely no reason. And he’d get off scot free and that would be the end of it. That’s how it always worked, with him and his people.

                He didn’t do that, though. No, instead he twisted his arms hard in what had to have been a very painful move to get me to drop my hold on him so he could stride right over to Dresden where he was leaning over Melissa’s desk and chatting with her, as I’d figured he’d be doing. Dresden lurched upwards in surprise when he saw the man, and Melissa’s dark eyes went a little wide.

                I marched over to them as quickly as I could, seeing Melissa’s fingers clench in the fabric of her black skirt, and Marcone was glaring at her. Harry finally broke from his shock and started raging at the man.

                “Marcone, what the hell? Don’t scare me like that, you scumbag!” Melissa’s hand shot from her skirt to clutch at Dresden’s arm and pull him sort of sideways over the table, and I saw Marcone’s chin rise and his jaw set. I snatched his arm again, this time putting a more defensive hold on it so he couldn’t catch me off guard like that again, and pulled him just slightly away from the couple. He seemed for a moment as if he were going to fight me again, the muscle of his arm feeling tight and coiled under my hand, but then he just went still, then he just stopped and gave Melissa a polite smile.

                “My apologies for startling the two of you. I suppose I was just shocked to see such a nice looking girl speaking with Mr. Dresden. I’m afraid I’m a bit more used to him associating with a less pleasant sort,” he said, turning his head slightly to spare me a pointed look, and Harry put the arm not being held by Melissa on his hip and glared at us.

                “Shut up, asshole.”

                “Would you like me to be silent because I complimented that girl or because I insulted Ms. Murphy?”

                “Both,” he said, and Melissa smiled, finally releasing his arm and sweeping the loose tendrils of her blonde hair that had fallen loose from her bun-held-up-with-pencils style away from her eyes.

                “Harry, honey, who is this?” she asked, and Harry shrugged, shifting a little self-consciously on his feet. I could see his thoughts with ease because he never was very good at hiding what he was thinking from me. Marcone had just complimented his girlfriend, and he didn’t think he was as handsome as Marcone. He was worried that she’d leave him as soon as she found a better prospect looks-wise, no matter who that better prospect was. He felt inadequate.

                “That’s John Marcone,” he said, “You know, the Gentleman. Head of Chicago’s criminal syndicates and all around pain in the ass.” Marcone laughed.

                “Harry, please, if you compliment me much more I might start to blush.” Harry turned a little pink instead and glared at his feet.

                “Bastard,” he grumbled. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?” Marcone raised his cuffed arms as much as he could with me holding him still and wiggled his fingers just a little.

                “I’m afraid the police and I suffered from a minor misunderstanding. I’m sure it will be cleared up within a few hours. As it stands, however, I’ll be forced to remain here for a bit. Now, Miss, may I have your name?” he asked, turning his attention to Melissa again.

                “Melissa,” she said, smiling just a tad, and Marcone inclined his head in a minor bow.

                “Lovely to meet you, miss. Can I ask what a girl like you is doing fraternizing with the likes of him?” Harry turned even redder, and obviously Marcone needed to work on his wooing techniques.

                “He’s my boyfriend,” she said, smiling sweetly and turning her gaze to Harry, who just smiled back down at her and took her hand.

                “I should think you could find someone else quite easily, could you not, darling?” he asked her, and she laughed a little.

                “I have a thing for tall guys,” she said, gesturing at Harry, and Marcone went tense again, although it didn’t show in his face.

                “Well, you two have fun. Don’t fuck up the office while I take him into interrogation, and Dresden, if you can manage to stop mooning long enough, please look over that case file a little more, see if you can puzzle the rest of it out while I’m busy with this asshole.” He nodded and saluted, but I didn’t see if he actually went to do what I told him to do or not because I’d taken Marcone into the back and got him sitting into our cheap metal folding chair in our equally cheap concrete interrogation room. He proceeded to glare at me the whole damn time.

                “Can I ask what the hell that was about, Marcone? I could get you charged with assaulting an officer for that.” He sneered at me, eyes lidded with a touch of anger, and damn it, I have not been trained to deal with a mob boss throwing a goddamn _temper tantrum._

                “As if you think you could get it to stick.” I sighed.

                “It probably wouldn’t, but it’d sure as hell make me happy to get to send your ass to court. Plus Dresden would be pissed if he thought you hurt me, as if you really could.” He fell silent at that, and I sighed. “Look, Marcone, I get it, I do. You like him. You’ve got a weird way of showing it, though; why would you think that complimenting his girlfriend would be a good way to get him with you, you fucking dumbass?” At that moment, he showed me more humanity than I’d ever seen from him before, and I nearly reeled away at the shock of it. He lowered his forehead into his left hand and heaved a sigh, his fingertips pressing into his scalp, and when he looked up at me there was something almost pathetic in his eyes.

                “I know that,” he said, frustrated. I don’t know why, but I felt the weird urge to comfort the poor bastard; Harry was oblivious at the best of times and if you were feeling generous. I could understand the annoyance Marcone was feeling. I patted his arm once and then leaned back and crossed mine.

                “Look, I understand how you’re feeling, I do, but Harry’s happy. He likes the attention she gives him, and he likes that she’s unrelated to magic. Hell, she doesn’t even know about it from what I’ve seen. She gives him a chance to feel normal and he doesn’t get that often. Just, don’t seduce his girlfriend, okay? Let him try and be a regular guy for a while.” Marcone just curled his lip in disgust again, looking far younger than he really had a right to.

                “Regular doesn’t suit him,” he told me, and I just shook my head and directed the conversation to his obviously illegal activities instead. He let me do it without a word and managed to continue being just as unhelpful anyway. His lawyers showed up ten minutes later and my expected vision of the future panned out perfectly. To tell the truth, I figured that that would be the end of it; life would go on as normal, Marcone would once more be his usual criminal self, and I’d just do my job. That didn’t pan out so perfectly.

* * *

 

                Harry invited me to go out to lunch with he and Melissa a day or two later, and to tell you the truth, I’d pretty much forgotten Marcone and his… yeah. Infatuation, I guess. I don’t know the exact right word for it. Anyway, we went to this quaint little place where you could eat outside, since it was summer and the weather was nice, and Harry even brought Mouse along too. The dog plopped down beside him, and the people that saw him made a wide circle around the creature. It made me smile a little, that they thought the wide eyed puppy dog would hurt them. If anything, he’d lick them to death, maybe beg for their lunch. Nothing else, though.

                I saw that Melissa was already there with him when I arrived and figured they’d probably come together. I could see also that he was telling some story, the hand she wasn’t holding gesturing wildly around him. I wondered for a moment if he’d ever learn to talk without his hands as I sat and offered him a wave. He stopped his story mid-sentence to greet me and Melissa had just a touch of annoyance on her face. I guessed I could understand that, sort of; I mean, he’d invited me to come out on a date with himself and his girlfriend. She probably felt threatened, or something. A lot of the women who were interested did, once they met me, because every last one of them just sort of automatically assumed that he and I were fucking.

                “Hey, Murphy! Did you get here okay? You’re a little late,” he said, and I nodded.

                “Yeah, I was fine. Just got caught in a little traffic on the way,” I said, gesturing at my motorcycle parked by the sidewalk a few feet away. He laughed.

                “How? You just bob and weave through everybody! Who managed to block you on that thing?”

                “Some asshole, I don’t know. Would’ve given him a ticket if I’d been in uniform.” He laughed and Melissa squeezed his hand a little. I watched him jump, having apparently forgotten that her hand was there, but he relaxed quickly. “So, what story did I interrupt?”

                “Oh! It was the case a few months ago, remember? The one with the moron and the robots?” I was snorting at the mere mention of it; some dumbass had attempted to build a robot army, and had actually caused a little damage (thus the reason why me and my people got called in) and I invited Dresden along to help out. As soon as he stepped inside every last one of the little doodads fell over smoking. I almost felt a little bad for the guy who’d made them, he looked so devastated. I figured Harry probably hadn’t mentioned the fact that he was the one who’d caused them to do that, since Melissa wasn’t in the know and I couldn’t imagine him wanting her to be. Melissa raised an eyebrow and pulled her hand from Harry’s. He didn’t seem bothered by it, really, because he just used it to prop his chin up after that.

                “Sounds as if the two of you have had quite a few adventures together.” I was about to speak, say something to assure her that I was in no way interested in Harry that way (it’d never work, with us; a lot of people had suggested it, obviously, but me and Harry… well, we want nothing close to the same things. Neither of us could give the other what they wanted, and that wouldn’t be fair. No way in hell were we destroying our friendship for some fling we both knew wouldn’t work) but he spoke for.

                “Oh, yeah, me and Murph have worked together since I moved here and she was a beat cop. You couldn’t ask for someone better to work under. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, you definitely caught a lucky break, getting sent to SI.” I rolled my eyes a little, and had Harry and I been sitting on the same side of the table, I probably would’ve punched him in the arm or something.

                “I’ll admit it’s better than some of the punishment departments you could’ve gotten sent to; someone like you, you could probably get moved back up. What got you sent down there in the first place anyway? I’ve been curious since your first day.” She smiled, kind and polite.

                “I’m afraid my former boss and I had a bit of a disagreement.” Well, wasn’t that just vague as all hell? Whatever, I guess; some people just don’t like talking about why they got sent to SI because sometimes it has to do with a mistake or an ethical thing or any number of other matters like that. I wouldn’t hold it against her. Harry smiled down at her sweetly, his eyes held wide and open, the set of his shoulders loose. That was good; he was relaxed around her. He couldn’t say that often, for many people. We talked for a while after that, her only giving me maybe one or two dirty looks for, I don’t know, intruding I guess, but that was honestly a record low for the women in Harry’s life. She seemed nice, I decided, and, yeah, she was as Vanilla as they came. Harry wouldn’t have to worry about her digging into what he actually did, wouldn’t have to worry about her asking questions he wasn’t able to answer. I gave Harry my tacit approval of her with a nod as I stood and left.

* * *

 

                I had only gotten about a mile away before I noticed a black car behind me. Huh. That was normally Harry’s thing. I wondered what had happened that I became stalk-worthy. I pulled the bike into a nearby parking lot and the car followed, so I climbed off and removed my helmet. Marcone, of course, climbed out of the backseat, straightening his suit with easy grace and walking over to me with this shifty expression on his face.

                “I’m not going to report you for tailing me, Marcone. Tailing Harry, maybe, at least eventually, but unless you try to run me off the road, I don’t actually care. Can I ask what I’ve done recently that’s interesting enough that I get my very own Mafioso escorts?” The shifty expression got shiftier. Sometimes it’s great to be a cop and notice stuff like that. Not that I thought I’d see much of anything that Marcone didn’t want me to see, but still. Sometimes even I need an ego boost.

                “You met with her today, didn’t you? What did you think of her?” I stared.

                “Marcone. Are you really… Christ. You followed me down the road from that store this far just on the hope that I’d pull over for you to ask me what I thought of Harry’s new girlfriend?”

                “I’d planned on accosting you once you arrived home, actually. You pulling over was simply a welcome change of plans.” I sighed.

                “Of course it was. If I tell you will you go elsewhere?”

                “For the moment, yes. Despite the rumors, I actually do have some legitimate affairs that require my attentions on a day to day basis.” Yeah, the stalking and the interrogation and the overall creepy was just an entertaining addition to his routine, I was sure.

                “I still don’t know an incredible amount about her, but she seems nice enough. Polite, really likes Harry, totally Vanilla, probably never did anything notable in her lifetime. All in all, I’d say she’s good for him. Gives him a moment to relax.” He nodded, slow, thoughtful.

                “Nothing notable, you say? Hm. I’m sure I can find _something._ Or Mr. Hendricks can; he’s quite good with things of that nature. Melissa. Would you happen to know her last name?” I stared at him.

                “I’m not helping you dig up dirt on my employee.” He stared back at me.

                “Why not? Surely you should be willing to give me a last name for the assurance of Harry’s safety, wouldn’t you? I can very easily find things that no one else could, perhaps something integral.”

                “She’s on the force, Marcone. I’m going to say she probably hasn’t been involved in anything too scandalous.” He shrugged.

                “Perhaps not in regards to anything illegal, but personal matters could very well be another story entirely.” Oh, damn him. He knew his way around words, I knew that. He knew exactly what to say and when to say it, how to get people to bend to his wants even when they didn’t want to. “And, of course, it would be a simple matter to discover her last name on my own anyway. She is, as you said, a member of the police force. Giving it to me now would really only be a formality that saved us all a lot of trouble later on.” The only thing he could’ve done to make himself seem more nonchalant was check his nails for dirt while he spoke.

                “You’re going to make me a promise that you won’t use anything you find to hurt or blackmail her, then. You will come to me with anything you find that could cause an issue. I will decide what, if anything, you’re allowed to do with it. I wouldn’t even let you do this if Harry wasn’t involved.” He smiled, a perfect, neat little smile, and he would’ve looked less out of place if he’d bowed.

                “You’ve my word, Ms. Murphy.” So I told him her last name. That wasn’t anything important, not really, and he was right. He could’ve found it on his own anyway. And I was a little… curious, about her. Harry had gotten hurt before because his girlfriends had made a good impression on me. He’d find anything, if there was anything to be found, and if Harry had shown me anything it was that the man could, at the very least, generally be trusted to be taken at his word. He left, after I told him that, and I did too. Hopefully I hadn’t done anything I’d regret.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                I’d gotten the name and that was, if nothing else, a step in the right direction. She was mortal, by all accounts, and ignorant of the supernatural world hiding in plain sight beneath her limited vision. People like that left trails; easy, obvious trails from birth ‘til death. I could find every major action she’d ever taken with ease and the means to do it was right there in my head. I hadn’t really even needed to work for it and the thought made me smile. Really it could only be too simple, getting rid of her. She was probably dull anyway, painfully normal in all that she did. Even if I did nothing at all she wouldn’t last with Harry. There was no way that she could hold his interest for long, not someone like her, so even if I acted I would only be… speeding along the inevitable. Hendricks turned to glance at me with the corner of his eye, and the particular stony look he wore on his face was one that normally only made an appearance when I was being unusually smug and stupid. I didn’t feel like acknowledging it on that day, however, and my forced obliviousness and lack of a cowed expression spurned him into speaking.

                “You know I can see what you’re thinking, right, John. I know you too well, and I’m going to tell you now, don’t do it. You promised Murphy, and you know Dresden wouldn’t believe a damn thing you find about that woman anyway. He’ll just assume you’re fucking with him and try to set your shit on fire, all while defending her like she’s god’s gift to the earth. Don’t you remember how it went when you tired this shit with Raith?” I gave him my most urbane smile. He appreciated it decidedly less than the general population did.

                “And Mr. Raith is a non-issue now, isn’t he? I can’t say my plan in that regard went off without a hitch, but it did, in fact, go off. I have learned, however. I’ll tell Ms. Murphy, you see, rather than Harry directly. I believe that he’ll be perfectly willing to see reason so long as it is not me shoving it down his throat.” Hendricks only continued giving me that damned look.

                “And what if you don’t find anything, John? Are you just going to make shit up? Call her a notorious black widow? Say she actually does know about magic and is just pretending she doesn’t so she can get close enough to Dresden to stab him in the back? Or, I know, she’s really just after him for his money! Christ, John, not everyone has something against him. Maybe she just likes him. Maybe, and I know you can probably barely comprehend this, she’s _good_ for him.” I’m certain that the words had nothing close to the effect Hendricks was hoping for. Really I hardly heard them. Harry does that to me, you understand. Makes me careless, stupid. As I’ve said before, he’s the definition of “bad for business”. I can’t seem to be as bothered about that as I once was, anymore.

                 “Everyone has something to hide, Mr. Hendricks, I’ll find her secret.” The frustration on Hendricks’ face knew no bounds.

                “She’s normal, John. Just a plain, average, everyday mortal. Chances are the most she’s done is stolen a pack of fucking bubblegum, or missed a month’s rent. She’s not like us; you’re not going to find out that she orchestrated a hit or ran drugs or anything like that. I know you love him, John, but if he’s happy, shouldn’t that be enough?” I chuckled and leaned back in my seat, watched the world pass around us in a blur.

                “This is all being done for his happiness. I want him with someone good for him. I’ll only speak of this again if I find something.” Hendricks shook his head, the stone fading to indulgence. This was the look of him giving in, of him deciding to trust me and my judgment. He couldn’t resist one last jab, however, and I supposed I couldn’t blame him for that, considering he was at least partially correct.

                “Any little blip you find is going to be ‘something’ to you because you think that the only person who’s ‘good’ for him is _you._ ” I smiled out the car’s tinted windows, and Hendricks and I both fell silent for the remainder of the ride home.

* * *

 

                I relegated myself to my office as soon as I arrived, my hands settling onto my computer’s keyboard naturally and comfortably. By the end of an hour or two I’d managed to create a timeline of a little better than the first half of her life.

                “She’d been born in Illinois, but in a suburb just outside of Chicago rather than in the city itself. She’d lived there for the first eighteen years of her life with her family, consisting of her parents and a younger brother, all with no major disciplinary issues or any major accomplishments. Really the only thing remarkable about her early life was how unremarkable it was.

                She’d come home to the city for college and had gotten a bachelor’s degree but nothing else. She had gotten a job on the force shortly after, and from there I found a year or two of blankness through which I was currently digging around in an effort to find what it was hiding. I found it rather funny, however, that after such a short time, I’d found more on her even with the blank space than I’d found on Harry after nigh on a decade of digging.

                It seemed that the man was something close to impossible to pin down for more than a few months at a time before he had come to Chicago. Honestly, I’d once found an adoption record for him in Wisconsin and then another in Missouri hardly five or six weeks later. Even Hendricks had trouble following the map of his adoption record that I’d attempted to make (since the official one, along with his original birth certificate and quite a few other legal records, had, by all accounts, miraculously disappeared from where they were held) for all the crisscrossing lines.

                The real hell of it was, though, that some of the things I found were blatantly contradictory. I’d find one report that his social worker had visited he and his new foster family in Vermont (he fights often in the school but his new siblings seem to love him) at the same time as another record said he was visited by the same social worker in New York (seems a little malnourished but the Mr. and Mrs. Warner say it’s because he refuses to eat, not because they aren’t feeding him. He won’t speak on the matter. I’ll keep a check on it).The worst thing had to have been the missing chunks of time, however, the worst of which took place from ten to eighteen. I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the history he never spoke of, the White Council he mentioned only in passing, the training Gard said he had to have had to gain the title of Wizard. At times it seemed as though I was the only one who even bothered to question it, as if I were the only one curious.

                I shook my head to bring my focus back to the issue at hand, the black space in the woman’s history, and after breaking through the PD’s security system (Ms. Murphy would surely be quite angry, were she to ever hear of that) I managed to find what it was hiding.

                She’d engaged in rather… un-reputable activities, during her time on the force, with some equally un-reputable people. Her boss, however, hadn’t been able to prove it, and so she’d simply been sent away to SI where I assumed they hoped she wouldn’t be able to cause any further trouble.

                It was rather odd, really; she’d tangled herself with criminals, with holdouts of Vargassi’s reign, with Torelli and his dissenters, but never with I myself. A missed opportunity, in her case; my people wouldn’t have let her get caught. Ah, well. It was beyond my concern, now, as was whatever information she’d leaked. Really all I cared about at that point was that she’d gotten a job on the force and then proceeded to squander it, to give her assistance to those she was sworn to bring to justice. Ms. Murphy, and Harry as well, I hoped, would simply _love_ that. I smiled as I shut down the computer because I’d found all I’d need. I’d found her secret.

* * *

 

Murphy’s POV

                I was seeing way more of Marcone lately than was healthy for either my career or my life. I mean, arresting him had been damn near pleasurable, having him accost me on the roadside had been annoying, but this… this was just getting _stupid._ Since when did Marcone even drink coffee, especially in a shitty little place like this? And in a Cubs cap and torn jeans, of all things! Hell, if not for the particular way he carried himself, I could’ve mistaken him for one of the regulars. I sat in front of him after I got my coffee and he smiled, tipping his hat just a little.

                “I believe I’ve found something that you’ll find very pertinent,” he said, voice clear and precise as he sipped his own coffee. He made a face as he swallowed, though, and I smirked. Trust a businessman to not know good coffee when he drank it.

                “Did you now? Are you going to tell me, or am I just going to have to sit here and suffer from all the suspense?” I wasn’t exactly in the mood to deal with him, if you couldn’t tell; I’d worked the late shift a lot lately and I didn’t foresee that tonight would be any different.

                “She’s a crook,” he said, and I stared.

                “Marcone. I really don’t have time for this shit.” He laughed.

                “I’m being entirely truthful, I’m afraid; I came across a record that she was being investigated for ties to a few men on my side of the fence, if not I myself. From what I saw, she was telling them what places were hot and what places weren’t, you see, all for a very tidy profit. A woman on the inside. I assume she’s quite useless now, however; your department doesn’t get much good information.” I continued to stare at him. I mean, was that really even possible? How could it be? No one had told me. Which, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by that, even if it were true, but still.

                “Get me proof, Marcone, and I’ll bite. And not just proof that she was doing it, but proof she was doing it willingly.” He only smiled again and pulled some papers from inside his old denim jacket.

                “Her recent bank statements. You’ll notice some very large deposits made by a known alias of Torelli. Check them yourself if you think I doctored them.” Oh, hell, even _I_ recognized that alias. Of course, I had tangled with Torelli before, if not in the traditional he’s-a-criminal-and-I’m-a-cop way. I stared down at them and Marcone looked insufferably happy with himself. I rubbed my head.

                “I’ll look into it. As for you, don’t do anything. Stay entirely out of it. Don’t talk to Harry until this gets straightened out. Or after, for that matter.” I stood and left at that, bringing my coffee cup with me and feeling my head swarming with thoughts. How did Harry manage to do shit like this, I wondered? How did he always manage to attract people like that? It was like he was a magnet for criminals. You know, if Marcone was telling the truth. It wasn’t like I could trust him implicitly; I’d have to look into it and hope he hadn’t pulled any strings to fool me. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the power to do things like that, honestly. I sighed as I pulled my bike into my parking space beside headquarters. I opened the backdoor quietly, not exactly feeling like walking all the way back to the front of the building, especially not when my office was closer to this door anyway.

                I didn’t expect to hear Melissa on the phone, though. Maybe I should have; she had been the first one to arrive ever since she started here. Still, I was… I was suspicious. I shouldn’t have been, didn’t really have a right to be, but I was. I couldn’t help it. I paused at the door, closed it silently, and listened. She was laughing; maybe Harry had called. I kept my breath as silent as I could.

                “He’s a damn moron. I don’t know why you think he’s such a threat,” she said, and I couldn’t hear who was on the other line. I had this feeling, though, that it wasn’t Harry. Whoever was on the other end must have said something because she fell silent, then spoke again. “Of course I’ll get him to you. He’s easy; by this point, I’m pretty sure he’d go with anyone that showed any interest in him. I’m surprised he hasn’t gone for the bitch that heads this department yet.” Another moment of silence. “I said you’ll get him, didn’t I? Like I said, he doesn’t seem to do anything but waste this department’s time. I don’t see where he’s any issue for you any damn way.” No, not talking to Harry at all. More like about him. Damn it; I hated conceding that Marcone was right about anything. And now I sound like Harry. Wonderful.

                Anyway, the conversation continued on in that vein for five or ten minutes, and I stayed in the back another five after it was done. Melissa greeted me with a smile, and I returned it as I drifted into my office even though I was admittedly pissed. What really pissed me off, though, was that I was going to have to talk to Marcone. Worse, I was going to have to _help_ him. I mean, I didn’t know who she’d been talking to, but obviously they weren’t too fond of Harry, and she was going to feed him to whoever it was on a silver platter. I wasn’t going to let her do that, and at that point, I was pretty much positive that Marcone wouldn’t either. So I called him. He answered as insufferably politely as ever.

                “I’m never telling you this again, but you were right. She’s still working for someone. I heard her talking on the phone when I came in today. I’ll help you, at least for now.” I could almost see the smug smile pulling his lips, the lazy pleasure in his eyes. He was a businessman to the last, that man, at least until you involved Dresden, in which case he turned into a cat. A really big, annoying cat with claws and teeth that had no right to be as large as they were.

                “Is that so? I’m grateful, I promise you. Would you be willing to tell Harry about her?” I sighed.

                “Have you ever met him? It’d take a knife in his back before he’d believe it, and even then there’s a decent chance he’d say her hand slipped. We’ve got to show him, not tell him. Look, meet me by Lake Michigan later, okay? This afternoon. We’ll figure out something then.” I proceeded to hang up on him and get on with my work. I hoped yet again that I wasn’t about to do something I’d regret.


	2. Chapter 2

Marcone’s POV

                I had some time until Ms. Murphy would finish her daily shift and therefore be able to meet me by the lake, and so I had a thought; why not go visit the man causing all of this? Murphy had only told me not to converse with him until everything had been straightened out, and I felt that it had. After all, she believed me. Things were straight enough.

                Of course, I had to first finish my own work; much though I might’ve wanted to, it wasn’t as if I could simply throw it all to the side whenever I caught the urge to see Harry. Hendricks would be bothered, you see. So, I did what I had to; I finished my work and made my way out to my car, not bothering to do anything more than inform someone that I was leaving. I was sure the news would reach everyone important at some point, and it wasn’t as if it were really a large deal.

                The drive was easy, and I drove slowly for the simple pleasure of it; it wasn’t often that I got to drive on my own, recently, and I enjoyed things like that where I could. I was smiling a bit once I reached his apartment and pulled into his gravel lot (I truly did wish he’d let me fix the place up a bit; I could upgrade the security and the amenities here for next to nothing and make it far more comfortable for everyone) and continued to do so when I reached his door. I knocked first, of course, but when no one answered I got a bit nervous.

                His death trap of a car was still outside, it was impossible to miss, so he couldn’t have gone anywhere. I knocked again and still heard nothing through the thick, steel door. Finally, I just clutched the charm in my jacket, one Gard had given me upon coming into my employ which she said would at least lessen the effects of any wards I happened to come across, and slammed the door open. I barely noticed the brutal shock that spread from my fingers out, barely noticed the burns on my palm and fingertips.

                Melissa was there, on Harry’s lap, her hands sliding beneath his shirt and her own already long gone. In any other situation, with any other people, I’d have found the sight funny; her hands and her mouth were everywhere, confident and easy, but Harry, Harry had his hands demurely and steadfastly at her hips, his mouth simply following hers, and his eyes open wide, as if the pleasure of it all surprised him. As it was, I saw white flash behind my eyes and I was striding forward. I curled my hand into her hair to pull her away because I couldn’t use a shirt, and the source of Harry’s surprise changed.

                “Hell’s Bells!” he yelped, the noise of it mixing with Melissa’s wordless yell as he stumbled to his feet. I dragged her a few feet from him, obviously not thinking clearly because I knew better, knew he could kill me with a stray thought if he wanted. It was only very rarely that I realized how much I relied on the fact that he didn’t seem to particularly want to.

                “Let go of me! Harry, help me, damn it,” she cried, and I wanted to cover her mouth. Perhaps I would have if I’d have thought it would do any good, but we were, after all, standing in a very small apartment. I couldn’t see where stopping her from being so noisy would do much good.

                “What the hell are you doing, Marcone?” Harry asked me, stepping closer slowly, as if he thought I’d pull a knife on the bitch. I wouldn’t, though; it’d be foolish of me to do something like that where so many people could so easily connect me to it. I couldn’t help but think that Nathan would be quite proud of me for that logic. It had honestly taken us both a long time to get to this point, strange as that may sound. Often people seem to forget our roots, where we came from, that neither of us were important before we drew ourselves that way. Either way, I had quite a few answers to his question, but I couldn’t think of any that would be appropriate, so I kept quiet.

                His hand settled suddenly on top of mine and I nearly loosed my grip in my shock. His hands were large, I noted, but in length rather than width. That made them seem smaller than they truly were, I supposed, more graceful than stout. Much like the rest of him, I supposed; he could be far more threatening than he chose to be, with height like that, but he seemed to squander it. He hunched often, cut himself a few inches, and curled into himself. It was strange to think that way of a man who could send the whole building to cinders around us, but unless he was in the process of doing something like that, he was… he wasn’t the giant he could’ve been. Brave and proud and stubborn and clever, yes, he was all of that, but threatening, enormous, no. On a day to day basis, the only thing of his that could fill a room was his personality.

                “Let go,” he told me, his black eyes a bit worried, “Are you alright? Has something… gotten a hold on you, or something? You’re not acting like yourself.” One extreme to another, anger to worry, that was him. I shook my head and his light grip, the curl, the cool warmth, of his fingers spurning me into releasing my grasp. Melissa scampered off towards his phone and dialed a number that thankfully contained more than three numbers. At least I wouldn’t be arrested again so quickly; it might’ve hampered my image a bit. I stepped back a bit.

                “I’m alright. Harry, she’s not-,” I tried, but then I heard Murphy’s voice on the other end of the phone, angry, surprised, and she was coming here. Harry took me by the arm when I made an attempt to leave and though I could’ve pulled free, I didn’t. I don’t quite know why, but I felt as if he deserved that much.

                “Sit down and be still until Murphy gets here. There’s something wrong with you,” he said, sparing a quick glance to Melissa, and he must’ve thought I was possessed but didn’t want to say it out loud for fear of exposing the woman to the truth of what he was, his life. I wondered how he explained away the lack of amenities in his home, the staff he carried, his blasting rod, his rings. He was an awful liar about things like that, things that didn’t really matter, but I supposed that some people were willing to believe anything if it kept them from having to think. I sat as he’d asked me because I could think to do little else. My thoughts were buzzing and my blood was burning so hot that it stung my skin. Running was beyond me and continued to be beyond me when Murphy marched inside, blue eyes a lightning storm.

                “Marcone, what the holy hell are you doing here? I just arrested you, did you miss your cell that damn bad? Jesus, what the fuck were you even thinking?” she asked me, and I shook my head. “Harry, has he told you anything?” He shook his head as Melissa came over and he thoughtlessly draped his arm over his shoulder. Murphy had to grit her teeth at that and I was certain that my nails were digging welts into the arms of his chair. I hated her, I did, for more than one reason. Harry deserved so much better.

                “Nope; seemed something close to hysterical, honestly. I don’t know what’s wrong with him. There doesn’t seem to be anything obvious going on, but something a little more subtle… could you keep an eye on him for an hour or so, at the precinct, maybe? Until I can manage to get there and look into things a little more thoroughly.” She nodded and dragged me up by the collar of my shirt. I had to work not to glare at her for the indignity, but I managed quite well.

                “Yeah, that’s fine. Be careful, okay, Harry?” Her worry showed through in the vaguest of ways, distant and hidden. I never had figured out if she did things like that on purpose or if they were simply second nature to her as she dragged me outside. “You’re explaining,” she said as soon as the door shut, “Come on. Follow me to the lake.” I wondered what life would’ve been like, if I’d have never met Harry that day in my car. I’d have never fallen in love like this, never felt this incessant sting and burn, the throb of my heart when I saw him, the ache behind my eyes, and I’d sure as hell have never felt myself compelled to follow a police officer who I knew I could never buy to the side of a lake. I couldn’t help but think that I was glad I’d met Harry. Life, at least, was far more interesting with his influence.

* * *

 

Murphy’s POV

                I don’t think I’ve ever seen something so horrifying as Marcone with a crush on somebody before now. I don’t know how I missed out on something so hellish for so long, but I really do understand what people mean by “ignorance is bliss” now. He’s just so… he’s serious in all that he does, yeah, but busting into someone’s apartment and tearing their girlfriend off of them by the hair (criminal and general not-good-girlfriend though she be) is just a tiny bit excessive. I pulled up to the edge of the lake and took off my helmet, looking out over the shimmering water. The wind coming off of it almost felt warm, now that spring was settling in.

                Marcone was beside me, then, looking almost cowed even though I hadn’t even said anything. Maybe he’d heard stories, and that thought made me grin a little.

                “So, you want to tell me what all of that was? I know you have some little crush on him, but I don’t even know what you were thinking, trying to pull that shit. You’re lucky you didn’t catch fire.” He sighed, his hand raking through his hair, tired looking and sad eyed. He was getting too damn good at making me feel bad for him, I decided.

                “I love him,” he murmured, cradling his head in his hand as if he were revealing something shocking, something deep. “I couldn’t stand seeing that, seeing him with someone who only wants to hurt him. He’s amazing, Ms. Murphy, strong and proud and smart. He deserves someone who sees that, who wants to nurture it in him and make him smile, not someone who doesn’t give a damn. He deserves someone as beautiful as he is, someone to make him smile.” He had a desperate look on his face, when I caught sight of it, tight and worried. He looked like a man who wanted to say a lot more than he had.

                “I know,” I told him, slow, “I understand. I feel the same way. This isn’t the way to go about it, though, any of it. You’re an adult, Johnny. You don’t just barge into someone’s house and grab a woman by the hair for no readily visible reason. Jesus, Harry’s normally the one I have to give lectures like this to; he might be right about something being wrong with you.” He shook his head and when he looked at me his green eyes were vibrant as ever, clear and lacking any sort of haze. I knew then that he was as sane as he’d ever been, for what that was worth. There’d always been something about him, something a little off; a little not quite normal, but then, he liked Harry. Harry didn’t attract people that were totally normal, and yeah, I know I just said that I probably wasn’t totally normal.

                I couldn’t have been sure about that before that exact moment, though. No, it was that second, by the lake, that I realized that I was probably totally insane too. See, it was right then that I decided that I was going to have to help John Marcone hook up with my best friend. Yeah, I’ll give you a minute to take that in; god knows I needed one.

                “I realize, and I apologize. I don’t know what came over me; I suppose I’ll just have to keep Mr. Hendricks close at hand until this is all resolved.” I sighed. This guy was a slime ball, the lead slime ball, as a matter of fact. He was a pain in my ass in all forms. He was a crook and he did everything with that sly, suave, cooler-than-you look on his face, in his stance, that just ate at me until I wanted to throw him into a lake despite all the legal (and moral, and oh, shit, there’s his angry criminal underlings coming to kill me for revenge) ramifications that doing so would probably involve. And yet I thought he would be good for Harry. I don’t even know _why_ I thought that, honestly, but if there’s one thing that I’ve learned from Harry, it’s that I should trust my instincts more often. I sighed one more time, from somewhere deep and low in my chest. I really wanted him to know that I was having a hard time with this and he should really appreciate the sacrifices I was making, you see.

                “Shut up, Marcone. Look, just… I’ll help you, okay? Tomorrow I’ll get him to come out to lunch with me or something, without her, and I’ll tell him what’s going on. Not all the stuff you just told me yet, obviously, but I’ll figure out a way to get you alone with him. As it stands, try not to have another stroke and attack people for no apparent reason, yeah? The general public frowns on that just a little.” He smiled, wan but genuine, and I couldn’t help but hope he’d show Harry that smile more often. It was a whole hell of a lot more real than a lot of the others I’d seen from him, and Harry… Harry appreciates the real ones. He’s told me as much more than once.

* * *

 

                It took a while, but when I called Harry about twenty minutes later, I managed to convince him that I knew Marcone was fine and therefore didn’t need to be checked for possession (which, yes, did involve a lot of lying and possibly an admission that Marcone had finally just gone totally insane and I would call someone to commit him later) and then managed to get him to agree to come out for lunch with just me instead of bringing Melissa along too. That part took surprisingly less coaxing; maybe she’d been dragging him out on too many dates. He never had particularly enjoyed going out to places with his significant others more than maybe once every week or two, or on special occasions; he’d always been more of a stay-at-home-and-cuddle-on-the-couch-and-read-books-together kind of guy. Generally the best you could hope for with him was a trip to a drive-in or a quick lunch at a coffee shop, so most people either organized dates themselves or learned to love his particular brand of old-world romance. Melissa had appeared to fall firmly in the former camp. I thought bitterly that that was only show she could get him out in the open, get him hurt. I wondered if I’d get to punch her just once, before all was said and done.

                Anyway, Harry drove up to the café I’d asked him to meet me at in his little patchwork beetle, (I refused to call it the Blue Beetle anymore, unlike him) and sat across from me. His crane fly legs sprawled under the table and his knobby knees knocked very slightly against mine no matter how he tried to situate himself in the chair. I cleared my throat because while I might be a cop, they don’t train you on how to tell your friend that his girlfriend is a criminal who’s probably trying to get him really dead. Of course, they also don’t train you on how to hook a mob boss up with said friend, but I’d just slapped that onto my list of duties too, so I guess I’ve been doing a lot of things lately that I haven’t been trained for. I figured that, with Harry, the direct approach was probably best. I cleared my throat and made the jump before he even managed to order a drink.

                “Melissa’s a crook.” He stopped. I’d have said that everything else did too, but I’m not that dramatic, and it wasn’t true anyway. If anything, the surroundings only got noisier at that point. He stared at me, blinked slow, and finally spoke.

                “What?” Of course. He’s smart when it comes to a crime scene, smarter than some of the investigators, really, and he’s smart when it comes to deductions and questioning and legwork and all of those other things that are integral to his job. He reads people better than damn near anyone I’ve ever met, and the magic is obviously a plus. And then you talk to him about _relationships_ and he suddenly becomes the slowest dumbass on the planet.

                “You heard what I said, Harry. I looked into her, just to be safe. She got kicked down to SI because her boss suspected her of leaking information to the various criminal syndicates, which surprisingly didn’t include Marcone, and her bank accounts are loaded with cash from one of Torelli’s aliases. Then, when I came into work, I heard her talking on the phone with someone, I don’t know who, and they were talking about you. She’s going to betray you, Harry.” He stared at me, blank, and he never looked at me that way. He never looked at anyone that way; hell, I hadn’t even known that he could do blank.

                “Murphy,” he mumbled, and I could see the hurt on his features, “Why are you jumping to conclusions? Maybe they were forcing her.” He’d defend the people he cared about to the death, straight through hell or high water. I shook my head.

                “How often do people like Torelli pay the people they’re forcing under their thumb? You know I don’t want to tell you this.” He coughed and hid it under a laugh, propped his forehead in his hands, and laughed again.

                “You’ve never lied to me before, Karrin. I’m not going to accuse you of it now. I just… Murphy, am I ever going to… is anyone ever going to just… like me? Not want to kill me? She doesn’t even know about magic. What’ve I done to… I just want someone to… Hell’s Bells,” he mumbled, and I reached over to clutch at his shoulder. He laughed again and shook his head, turning to look up at me. He was flushed a little at the peaks of his cheeks, but beyond that, he looked like he always did. His eyes were just slightly shuttered, his shoulders were set in a tense line, his mouth tight and tilted just slightly down. It was only in the strange moments like this that I realized just how often he hid from me, from everybody.

                “She’s just not the one. You’re a good man, Harry. Whoever it is, you’ll find them. You’ll get to be happy one day; I know that even if I don’t know anything else.” His lips tilted up for a moment instead of down, the shutters lifted and I saw the traces of sadness in his eyes. And these moments, these were the ones where I realized how much he trusted me. I felt privileged to count myself among the select few he loved and trusted, I always had. He nodded slowly as he stood and began to walk back towards his car.

                “I don’t… I don’t feel like lunch today, okay, Murphy? We’ll meet up in a few days. Just, not right now. I’ll call you when I get home, okay?” I could understand that, so I nodded, and then he was gone.   

                I might’ve lied about the stuff I just said, a little. I could understand it, and he did leave. I just, you know, followed him. Look, I’ve left him alone when he was upset before and it hasn’t turned out well. It’s not that I didn’t trust him or anything like that; I did, it’s just, he gets… hooked on things. He dwells on them, thinks everything is his fault somehow. It’s sort of like, oh, hey; remember that meteor that destroyed the dinosaurs? Well, fuck me for not being born then and therefore unable to make a giant-ass shield to protect them from it. I try to keep him from getting to that point when I can, or at least make it a little more cushioned, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid while he’s in that state. Sometimes that involves following him just a little while he’s still in the “I don’t want to talk to anyone” stage. Look, it’s not my fault that I worry about him, okay?

                Besides, it was probably a good thing I did, that day, because when he pulled up to his apartment, there was Melissa, smiling, her hands held out as if she panned on greeting him with a hug. I rolled my eyes and bit at my lip for a moment, my hand curling instinctively around empty air. He looked so distraught, standing there in front of her, his hands spreading expansively around him, his mouth moving around words I couldn’t hear. She looked surprised, then desperate, her hands tightening in Harry’s shirt, and I edged my bike a little closer before I climbed off and edged closer myself. I ducked behind a car as soon as I was close enough to hear her.

                “No, Harry, please! At first, yes, I was… I planned on hurting you, on giving you over to the highest bidder, but now… you’re a good man, Harry. I think I’ve grown to care for you far more than I should have. Give me a chance, please? I’ll cut ties, I’ll let you watch me do it! I want to be with you, Harry. Just let me show you, and we can be like we were. Weren’t you happy with me?” I could see the pain behind his eyes, the way his fingers curled into the sleeves of his duster. I wanted to shake him because I could also see him wanting to believe her; I could see him falling for it. He was too trusting, he always had been, even when he swore up and down that he wasn’t. I almost thought it was strange, after all he’d gone through, all he’d seen. Usually it just made me want to hit him a few times and see if that would shake some sense loose in his dense skull.  Finally he nodded and I wanted to scream.

                She started walking and he followed her, his head down and his steps slowed and shortened to match hers. I followed behind them too, careful and distant. He’d be pissed if he caught me, and that wasn’t what I was after. He’d get over it once I saved his ass for the millionth time, but still, if I got caught, he might make it so I couldn’t follow him or something. He’s pulled shit like that sometimes and nearly gotten himself killed for it.

* * *

 

                I don’t know how far we went, or where exactly we ended up, because none of that was what I was paying attention to. No, my attention was currently focused on the guns that were aimed at Harry, the sharp streak of hurt and betrayal (how could he still be like this, so trusting, after everything? He should’ve been jaded, cold and closed, nothing like this man with emotion painted starkly over every fiber of him) coating his face. The idea that he needed someone like Marcone hit me suddenly.

                I didn’t particularly like the man; he was annoying in all that he did, and I was pretty sure that was what he existed to be, a foil to me and to everyone I cared about. Sometimes the hero needs a villain, though. I think Harry might be one of those heroes, guileless in matters of trust and forgiveness, and Marcone could keep him straight, or at least straighter. I swallowed as stared, and the sound of countless safeties being flicked off filled the room.

                “Melissa?” he asked, and she laughed as she swayed her way over to Torelli, draped herself over his arm.

                “Oh, Harry, _sweetheart_ , I’m so sorry. They would’ve killed me!” she said, a teasing tone to her voice, and Torelli grasped her by her hip. Harry’s blasting rod was in his hand, then, slipped from inside his jacket sleeve, and the tip of it glowed orange in the shadow of the alley where we stood. I finally stepped closer, stepped into the limelight and drew attention to myself.

                “Dresden! What the fuck were you thinking? I told you what she did, you goddamn dumbass!” I played at being pissed and he played at being cowed. That was just how we worked, I think; it made things easier because it made it so I didn’t have to admit that I was worried or that I cared and he didn’t have to show how sorry he was for making me feel that way. It was just cleaner all around, really.

                “I’m stupid, I know. Can you yell at me later?” he asked, and yeah, that was probably for the best. Melissa giggled again and waved a hand, and slowly the guns lowered at the gesture. Torelli glared at her. Apparently she was more than just a leak, then; Torelli had given her power.

                “Well, look who’s here! You hate her too, right? I can more understand your grudge with her, though; she’s a real bitch! I think the fact that I got her too means I get a bonus, though,” she said, her voice now a sing-song, and Torelli took a quick moment to flash his teeth.

                “She ain’t the reason I wanted him, Lissy; only reason I give a fuck about him is because killing him will piss Johnny off.” Oh, hell. Of course. Of course this was somehow his fault; hadn’t basically everything been at least partially his fault lately? Harry looked ready to stride forward and partake in his unique brand of ‘fixing’ the situation. I held him back; it wouldn’t be good for either of us if we had to explain another burned building, or injured people. We could get out of this another way.

                “Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. That’s all you talk about anymore, darling! I might start to think you don’t love me anymore,” she said, laughter still in her voice.

                “Shut the fuck up,” he murmured, “And get the bastard secure. I think I want Johnny to see him die.” And that was my cue to let Harry loose, obviously. His fire blazed a little higher on the tip of his blasting rod and I quickly slipped my own gun from my jacket and stepped very slightly out of his way. The goons surrounding us had their own up again with equal speed, and I heard some clicks that would’ve normally culminated in booms, their shock and their fear almost palpable around us. Harry had this really proud look on his face and I laughed because of course he’d broken them. They were all staring at us, caught between terror and surprise, and that made me proud too. Harry, he’d just shown Melissa what he was worth, the magic at his fingertips, and she didn’t know what to do with it. None of them did. That only proved how little they should matter to him. I pulled my cuffs from my belt and even though she was far from the largest threat in the room, I used them on Melissa and called for backup on the rest of them. She jerked and squirmed, trying to get loose, and cursed the both of us, me and Harry, but I could hardly hear her for the satisfaction. This would show her, show her what she’d thrown away, show her the worth of the people she insulted and saw as nothing. I jerked her arms just once, hard, because I’m not petty at all. 

                Everything went fast from there. Torelli and his goons all tried to run, but it’s pretty amazing what a wall of fire in front of an alley’s exits can stop (sometimes Harry scared even me with the power he possessed, with the sheer control he held, the sheer force he mastered, but something in me always promised that I’d never feel the sting of his anger, the burn of his fire, and while that didn’t always alleviate the fear, it made me realize that it was silly). My people came in and a lot of arrests were made. Rawlins thanked Harry and me, his face jovial, and the people were being slowly dragged out, cussing up storms and struggling but there were a lot of cops and they had guns that hadn’t committed technological suicide.

                Soon enough the alley was empty but for him and me and then he was on the ground. I followed him down, worried, but he shook his head.

                “I am sorry, Murphy,” he murmured, “I just... I wanted to believe she liked me, that it was all a misunderstanding. I know I’m not gorgeous or anything, and I know sometimes I can be… I know not everyone likes my personality, but since Susan left, I’ve just wanted _someone_ and I was so happy when she was interested but she wasn’t really and-.” I cut him off there.

                “It’s okay,” I said, and I would’ve said that I understood, but I didn’t, really. “I’ve said before that you’ll find someone. It just isn’t her; she doesn’t deserve someone like you anyway. It’s okay, alright? Not right now, probably, but it will be.” He laughed, his head in his hand, and nodded.

                “Yeah,” he said, “Yeah.” I knew he didn’t really buy it, and I knew he wasn’t fine, but I also knew that pushing him wouldn’t do anything; he was too damn stubborn for it. We stood together and left the alley, slow, drudging. From there, we went to his apartment again, and while it took more than a little convincing and arguing, I finally decided that he’d be alright to be by himself for a little. I did extract a promise for him to call me if he needed me, though, and that was probably the best I’d ever get out of him, so I left.

* * *

 

Marcone’s POV

                Ms. Murphy called me shortly after she reached her own home and informed me of all that had happened. Cruel though it may sound, I felt a certain thrill in my blood at the news.

                “He’s upset, though. Don’t piss him off.” I smiled at the air, but worry still bit at me. Harry had long been known to do stupid things, when he was upset. I didn’t want one of those stupid things to happen again. What I wanted, however, rarely if ever seemed to matter that much to Harry Dresden. I needed to talk with him; if nothing else, how pissed off he got at me would distract him from how upset he was by everything else.

                “I would never,” I said, and I could hear the frustration in her sigh. She and Nathan were kindred spirits, truly. I felt for the world if ever they met to exchange stories about Harry and I; both of our images would be tarnished beyond repair.

                “Like I buy that for a second,” she murmured, and hung up. I laughed softly and stood, stretching my back before I left again, once again not bothering to say where I was going. It wasn’t as if no one would be able to deduce it anyway; I was generally far from subtle when things concerned Harry Dresden. I always assumed it was a piece of him rubbing off on me. I decided on the way that I’d try to explain my earlier actions, when I’d entered his home, decided that I’d try to get across what I felt. Perhaps if I was a bit more obvious about things, he’d finally understand why I’d done all I’d done, how I truly cared for him. I wouldn’t hold my breath, however; if I ever did that when he was concerned, I’d have died years ago.

                The drive was quick and perhaps a bit dull, the activity tedious and familiar, the scenery common around me. I’d been here often enough, obviously, seen this street and these people and these signs god knew how many times before. I pulled into his parking lot with practiced ease despite the fact that it was a tricky turn for larger cars, and climbed out with equal thoughtlessness.

                I straightened my suit (any comments about teenage girls and wanting to impress their boyfriends will not be appreciated or tolerated) and rapped against his door with my knuckles before I recalled that such a motion did not work on his door. No, to draw any attention when knocking on his door, one had to do everything short of slamming the entire weight of their body against said door. I always found it fascinating that he managed to incur every inconvenience of having a steel door, whilst the dents and warped places in the metal informed me that he didn’t reap the benefits. It took an unsurprisingly long length of time for him to answer, by the way, but eventually he did, and I appreciated as much. Not that I thought he’d have bothered with the courtesy if he had any way of knowing I was the one on the other side, but still yet.

                “Hello, Harry.” He yawned.

                “Don’t call me that, scumbag. I’m really going to have to key the wards to get you, you know that, right? At least you waited for me to answer today.” I smiled.

                “I wanted to apologize, you see. Of course, had you not answered, there’s a chance that I’d have picked the lock, but I wanted to offer you the courtesy of interacting with me as an actual human being for a bit, rather than some type of prop for whatever madcap movie you happen to be pretending you’re the star of at the moment.” He snorted and leaned against the frame of his door, long, lean body a vision with the firelight shining from somewhere behind him. I’d never meet someone like him again, I knew; it simply wasn’t possible for more than one man so… him to exist.

                “You know, I’d think most people were joking, if they said that. You, though? Yeah, I could actually buy all that. Also, no way in hell do I envision myself as the star of a movie; if anything, I’m the unlucky sidekick who everyone makes fun of.” I smiled, softly, as pleasantly as I could manage. I’d relax him first, I decided, perhaps lull him into inviting me inside, before I brought of the true matter of my visit.

                “Is that so? Who am I, then, if not the prop?” He grinned, sharp, but there was less than his usual amount of bite behind it. He wasn’t at his best, obviously, but then I didn’t really expect him to be.

                “You? Well, obviously you’re the suave villain character. Sort of like a male femme fatale.” I nodded, looking as thoughtful as I could at something so silly.

                “And your friends?” He pursed his lips, and my god, but he was actually considering it.

                “Huh. Well, Thomas is the hot male lead who all the ladies want, in the theater and out, of course. But not just one of the vapid ones that’s there to look pretty; he’s one of the ones with the tragic backstory and bad boy aura. Kincaid’s the badass action hero who ends every scene with an explosion, but everyone leaves his movies confused because his partner is made of basically every creepy little girl stereotype that has ever been in a movie ever, who is somehow still adorable and likable. Then, Murphy is… huh. Murphy’s like a mixture of jaded film noir detective and black-sheep-awesome-champion-boxer. Then Michael is the definition of all those priests who secretly fights evil.” It was almost funny, I noted, that all of his friends got leading roles while he cast himself as the sidekick.

                “I might go to movies more often, if that’s what they began to play,” I said, and he snuffled again, I assumed in an attempt to sound haughty. I realized then that I was a fool, to instinctually consider a man like Harry (dangerous, always dangerous, with quick dark eyes and a quicker tongue, magic at his fingertips and always ready to burst forth) so damned… adorable. I did, though, at least when he was like this, relaxed as he ever was, a smile curling his thin lips, the sharp angles of his face softened just enough to make him welcoming, a wan curve to his spine.

                “Yeah, well, you would. You’d probably get premiere tickets and everything. Bastard.” That startled a laugh out of me.

                “Odd as it may sound, Harry, I am not quite prominent enough to be invited to red carpet events, at least none that occur anywhere outside Chicago.” He rolled his eyes.

                “Obviously those movies would premiere in Chicago, dumbass. Well, all but Kincaid and Ivy’s. Theirs could happen, like, anywhere. They move a lot, you know? Ivy always talks about how much she likes it here, though, so maybe it would happen here. Anyway, I don’t think you came here to talk about this, so what do you want?” Ah, there it was, the suspicion. I’d been wondering where it was.

                “May I come in?” He stepped just slightly aside, and I took it for an invitation.

                “At least you asked this time,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind me. It was then that I noticed two additional pairs of eyes, one an unnerving greenish yellow and the other dark brown, pressing into me. It took only a cursory glance to discover that the eyes belonged to his pets, one of which lounged by the fire and the other of which had draped itself over the back of his couch. Of course, I haven’t got a clue how this second creature managed that, as it was rather a lot wider than its perch, but I supposed I wasn’t allowed to be privy to whatever physics-defying magic Harry’s cat was blessed with. Harry himself sprawled onto a chair, his arm narrowly avoiding the book he had precariously balanced on the chair arm, and I sat on his couch with decidedly more grace. His cat head butted the back of my neck, and I reached behind myself thoughtlessly to scratch it. A funny sort of smile twisted Harry’s lips.

                “What?” I asked him, the cat now purring so violently that I could almost feel it vibrating through my teeth. He chuckled and the dog stood on lazy legs, wandering over to plop its head across his thighs. He stroked a hand through the enormous creature’s fur and it stared up at him, entirely rapturous and unconditionally loving.

                “He’s never going to leave you alone now, you know.” A small torpedo of gray fur and muscle suddenly pounced onto my lap, front paws kneading into the flesh of my upper legs once or twice before it stretched across them laboriously, as if doing so was the biggest feat of its life. I smiled and continued to pet the animal. I’d always liked cats, and dogs as well, if I were honest. I’d often contemplated getting a pet for myself, but I always feared that I’d not have enough time to devote to one. The cat continued purring, the sound of it reminding me of the noise my car made whenever I tried to push it too hard, too fast. I dug my fingers behind its ears and the cat purred louder.

                “I don’t mind,” I said, and Harry shook his head. His dog appeared as if it really, really wanted to jump into the chair with him, but Harry just rolled his eyes when he saw me notice.

                “He’s still a puppy at heart,” he said, gesturing at the dog vaguely before he slid down onto his carpeted floor to sit beside the creature. It leaned against his side heavily and he threw his arm around it. I had to bite at the insides of my cheeks and lips at the sight to hold back the smile.

                “His name is Mouse, correct? And the cat is Mister?” He nodded.

                “Yeah. I’ve never been all that creative with naming things.”

                “And thus comes Cujo, correct?” He shrugged.

                “I calls ‘em like I sees ‘em.” I smiled; I could still relax him more, from here, soften him up even more for my real reason for being here. I needed him as calm as I could get him, of course, but it was a delicate business just like everything else was, with him. Speak too early, and he’d get defensive, wouldn’t be willing to listen, but wait too late, put it off too much, and he’d get annoyed and more sarcastic than usual at me. Everything with him was a balancing act. I couldn’t help but like that, honestly; it kept me on my toes, kept me interested. Every conversation with him, it seemed, was like the first.

                “He’s actually in college, you know, majoring in philosophy. Ms. Gard and I edit his thesis for him.” Harry laughed.

                “I know he’s not stupid, dumbass. You wouldn’t work so closely with him if he were. I call him Cujo because he plays guard dog so well. Plus I know it pisses him off, and that’s generally the purpose of all the nicknames I come up with.”

                “You have others?” He gave me the flattest look I’d ever seen him give anyone.

                “Duh. Did you think good old Cujo was that special or something? I don’t like him that much.”

                “I was unaware that you like him at all.” He cocked his head at me.

                “Really? Huh. You must be slipping then, Johnny. We had coffee together once, some time when you had him tailing me. I helped him with his physics homework.” That shouldn’t have confused me as much as it did. Harry was smart, of course, just as Nathan was, and he was likable, and I was under no illusions that he never caught the people I had tailing him, but coffee? _Physics_? He rolled his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, scumbag. Wizards have to think about physics, like, a lot. Magic still has to work in them, so you need at least a cursory understanding of what works and what doesn’t. Plus my guardian had me take a few classes once I moved in with him, to at least get me semi caught up with schooling.” I nodded as if I knew what he was saying.

                “Guardian?” He was in a good mood; I figured I could take advantage of it, at least in this regard.

                “Yeah, Ebenezer McCoy, took me in at sixteen. I hadn’t gone to school for three or four years at that point, though, so I was really behind. He taught me enough that I got my GED.” I tilted my head, my hand still moving thoughtlessly through the cat’s fur.

                “You were only sixteen; you could’ve graduated naturally, couldn’t you have?” He shrugged and looked away from me.

                “I wasn’t too great with people, back then. Me being in a crowded room with a bunch of remedial students and a very likely frustrated teacher would’ve been a really terrible idea. I was never all that great in school anyway. I wasn’t stupid, I just… didn’t like it. I was always the scrawny new kid from the orphanage, so I didn’t exactly make a boatload of friends. So I stopped going when I was thirteen, or fourteen, or somewhere around there. I forget my exact age.” I narrowed my eyes.

                “You would’ve been too young to quit school legally, Harry.” He looked up at the ceiling.

                “Legal guardian gave permission. Drop it, Marcone. What’d you want again? I don’t think you ever bothered mentioning it.” And, like the expert I obviously was, I’d managed to pry into something he didn’t want pried into. Lovely.

                “My apologies,” I attempted, and he just shrugged again, his eyes still fixed anywhere but me. “I came so that I could explain why I entered your home without permission, and ask that you forgive me for it.” He finally looked at me again, his eyes wide and his eyebrows only slightly below his hairline.

                “Huh?” I sighed.

                “I don’t think me apologizing is really that strange, Harry. I did it for good reason, however; I was the one who informed Ms. Murphy of the woman’s treachery, but I knew you wouldn’t believe it from my lips, so I asked that she handle it. However, I grew… I wanted to see you, and when I saw you with her like that, considering what I knew… perhaps I overreacted a bit.” He shook his head.

                “You’re a real asshole, you know that? Why are you telling me that? Do you think I’m going to kiss your feet or something? Why did it matter to you anyway? Not that I’m not glad you told Murphy, since I’m not a big fan of bullets in me, but still.”

                “Much though you seem to want to deny it, I do like you, Harry. I didn’t want you hurt, and so I looked into her to make certain that she was good for you.” He snorted.

                “Yeah, I’m sure it was entirely altruistic on your part. I know, I know, it’s your life goal to make me miserable, yeah? Figure if it gets proven to me enough that apparently everyone who gets close to me has an underlying reason for doing it I’ll give up and go to you?” I stared at him.

                “Of course not, Harry. If you come to me, I want it to be willing. I would not force you into anything; I like to consider myself above such crass methods. I did what I did out of care and worry for you, not out of any desire to see you hurt.” His jaw went tight and he stood, unfolding himself from the floor to his full height, and his long legs ate up the distance between us with hardly a step.

                “Don’t lie to me, Marcone. I know people don’t… Hell’s Bells, I know not a lot of people like me, okay? That’s never changed. I don’t… I don’t care, though. I’m used to it. So what if she was using me? Most people do. I’m not going to cry about it for you, okay? Thank you for telling Murphy. Thank you for helping to keep her from catching me unaware. Now get your ass out of my house. Your Gentleman shit doesn’t work on me. You’re nowhere near my best option, alright?”

                “Harry, please, don’t do this right now. I’m trying to apologize.” He nodded.

                “You did. I told you thank you. Our business is finished. We can start over on a clean slate. Ra, ra.”

                “No, Harry, it isn’t. We need to talk.”

                “No we don’t. We need to go on just like we’ve always been. I like just like we’ve always been! Antagonism works for me, you know?” He was so frustrating. So, so, frustrating, and he didn’t have a reason to be. I wasn’t trying to hurt him and I’d told him as much I had no idea how many times. I only wanted him to be happy, just as his friends did, and yet he wilfully refused to see it. I stood, his cat landing harmlessly on the floor and proceeding to leap onto his bookshelf to watch the proceedings.

                “I only want what’s best for you,” I tried, and he bared his teeth in an almost bitter laugh. I light thump of force into my chest sent me stumbling towards the door, but I stood fast anyway. I knew he wouldn’t seriously hurt me, at least not with his magic.

                “Stars, I hate you. You have no idea, Marcone, you really don’t. You want what’s best for me? That’s a contract with you, right? Stop trying to make me like you. Stop trying to carve yourself out a spot in my life. It’s not going to work, alright? I’m my own man and that’s how it’s going to stay. Get out.” I stepped closer to him without realizing it and took him by the shoulders. I wasn’t sure, then, whether I wanted to kiss him or punch him. Either way, he’d end up senseless, and perhaps that was the final goal. I settled for shaking him a bit and he flashed pulled his lips into a tight almost snarl.

                “You’re the one lying, Harry. If you want to work for me, fine, I don’t give a damn. You’ll have a place in my employ when and if ever you want it. If you never do, then I don’t give a damn about that either. All I want, Harry, is for you to be happy. Perhaps that isn’t all I’ve ever wanted it. Perhaps my motives weren’t always so pure. What counts is now, however, and now, I want you to be happy, and that’s it. If it’s with me, fine. If it isn’t… perhaps I’ll be upset, but I’ll be alright with that as well.”

                “Let go of me, John.” He was tense under my hands, his face shadowed and cool. He still wasn’t looking me in the eye, either.

                “Look at me and I will, Harry. Tell me you think I’m lying to you after you look at me.” He tore away from me and I let him, not wanting to hurt him, and he jerked open his door, staring down at his feet or at the wall behind my head or anything else he could manage.

                “I’m not in the mood, Marcone; I’ve never met someone with worse timing that you, you know, and I’m counting me in that number. Leave.” Something in his voice, something flustered and tired, made me listen.

* * *

 

                When I arrived back at my office, I called Ms. Murphy yet again, and truly, her frustration at this was beginning to reach epic proportions.

                “What’d you do this time?” she asked me, a sigh in her voice, and I had to chuckle even though I didn’t feel particularly amused.

                “I attempted to apologize for what I did the other day, and he was very obviously in no state to listen to me. Would you mind being of assistance to me again?” I don’t believe I have a word to describe the noise she made just then, but I do know that Hendricks has made it before.

                “For someone who was nicknamed the Gentleman and is notorious for sweeping anyone you want to right off their feet, you’re really, really shitty at relationships. Has anyone ever told you that? I mean, Harry isn’t that hard; buy him pizza, or a steak, or kill a monster with him, and he’ll invite you out for beer. How can you possibly fuck that up?”

                “I believe by bringing up poor choices of conversation while drinking that beer.”

                “I think I know why he says he hates you now, Marcone, and I have to tell you, I’m starting to get on the boat with him. This is not my job, okay? This is not what I get paid for.”

                “I’ll owe you, Ms. Murphy.” Another frustrated noise forced itself through her lips.

                “Fine. Look, I’ll try to deal with it, okay? I’ll put something together where he has to spend some extended amount of time with you and therefore listen to your bullshit. If you can’t take it from there, I’m done.” Ms. Murphy is a competent woman, I’ve seen as much, and so, despite the fact that I was quite honestly entirely unsure of what she could possibly do to make Harry, of all people, be cooperative, I decided that I’d best leave her to it.      

                “Thank you,” I told her, and she grunted.

                “Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky I think you’d be good for him, bastard.” She proceeded to hang up, and I couldn’t help but smile. Harry did, at least, have excellent taste in friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope everyone reading liked this chapter, but I must say that there's no more pre-written from here on out, so, hey, back to my erratic posting from way back when! Haven't I come such a long way? It's been so long since I've gotten to say that the next chapter will appear whenever I happen to get it written! I'm sure you all love the memories as much as me!


	3. Chapter 3

Murphy’s POV

                I gave Harry a quick call, and he answered with a grunt that sounded as if he was pretty sure I was actually someone else and he was going to have to yell at me. His tone changed the moment I spoke, however, and I’d have seriously considered in investing in caller ID for him if I thought it’d last him five minutes.

                “Oh, hey, Murphy! Sorry, Marcone came by, got me a little annoyed. I figured you were him, since, you know, he usually doesn’t just give up because I threw him out.” I nodded because that sounded more true than pretty much anything. He was, after all, Marcone; I was pretty sure he never gave anything up.

                “It’s fine. Look, I know this has all gotten you a little upset, so I was thinking, I’m off work, you don’t have a job, why don’t we do something fun for once. No end-of-the-world stress, no bodies, no nothing. I heard there was a carnival in town; why don’t we spend the day there? You can watch me ride the rides, if nothing else, and I know you like carnival food.” I could hear the indulgent smile in his voice, the, ‘oh, well, she’s just trying to cheer me up, I guess I’ll go along with it this one time’ smile he always seemed to get after a big case or a failure or anything else that didn’t go off without a hitch.

                “Yeah, okay! When do you want to go?”

                “Tomorrow? I’ve got to wrap everything up at the precinct and the guy who deals with the roses is supposed to come by in an hour or two.” That was only partially a lie; both of those things were happening, but mostly I needed to make sure Marcone knew where to show up so I could ditch Harry with him and run off on my own to watch the fireworks.

                “Alright, I’ll see you then. You can just drop by my place and I’ll follow you there.”

                “Sure thing, Dresden. Have a good night,” I told him, and he wished me the same. From there, it was easy to let Marcone know, and while he didn’t sound totally confident in my plan, he didn’t argue with me. That was, if nothing else, refreshing, and that night, I slept well with the knowledge that maybe soon I’d be able to stop dealing with all this matchmaking shit. It was getting kind of dumb; I had no idea how some people actually managed to do this for a living.

* * *

 

                The next morning was crisp and clean, the early air cool and fresh feeling. It was a good morning, I decided, and if I believed in omens, that’s what I would’ve called it. The just barely chilled air felt good on the ride to Harry’s, and for once he was actually awake before noon. Maybe he was actually excited about this; it had been a while since we’d done something fun just for the sake of doing something fun. Maybe I’d have to actually do something with him, once all this was said and done.

                He even did his version of dressing up where he wore a t-shirt that lacked both stains and some crass slogan, as well as a pair of jeans that covered his ankles and that he didn’t have to yank up his hips every five minutes. He greeted me with a suitably ridiculous wave and I partook in my part of the ritual by rolling my eyes.

                “Hey, Dresden. Ready to go?” He nodded, and he didn’t even have his coat on when he shut his door behind him and climbed into his car. That made me smile, even if only a little, as I drove off on my bike, him just behind me until we pulled up to the bright, flashing lights that signified the carnival’s entrance. We walked in side by side, bought ten tickets each even though we probably wouldn’t use them for anything, and began simply wandering.

                Kids ran by us often, sometimes crashing into one of our legs and sometimes steering around us in wide circles, haggard but amused parents generally right on their heels and throwing apologies our way. In addition to that, we saw teenagers on benches, boys dragging girls towards the wildest rides and all of them smiling, clumps of friends sharing copious amounts of fried junk food that Harry stared at longingly. I bought him a funnel cake since I felt so bad and I don’t think he could’ve looked more grateful if I gave him one of my organs. He sort of ruined the moment by making a joke about how I couldn’t go on any of the rides because my mommy wasn’t with me and I was too short. He did agree to take a picture of me on the carousel for her before I punched him hard enough that he shut up, though.

                We had just come across the fun house and were about to walk through it (mostly because I wanted to see Harry go through that tiny little tunnel those things usually have; it’d serve him right for the too-short-to-ride cracks) when Johnny finally came across us, dressed way down in a tight t-shirt of his own and jeans that fit perfectly. I couldn’t help but imagine the gargantuan price tag that was probably still attached to the clothes. Hendricks, who was wandering around behind him, his arm over the shoulder of the blonde amazon, looked way more common, natural.

                “Harry?” he asked, as if he were really surprised, and Harry jolted around to see him. “How nice to see you here,” he said softly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

                “Whatever you say, Johnny. Since when does the outfit go to carnivals?” He chuckled, and Hendricks gave me this look, slowly turning and wandering off with Gard. I stepped very slightly sideways, getting ready to make my own great escape.

                “Even myself and my people need a break sometimes, and coming to places like this is quite relaxing, as well as surreptitious.” Harry shrugged and scuffed his boot against the ground, looking to me as if he thought I held all the answers to life, the universe, and why in hell Marcone was standing in a carnival making small talk with him. I had the answer to one third of those questions, but I didn’t feel like giving it, so instead I just gave him a quick wave.

                “Hey, Dresden, I see an old friend of mine over there, yeah? I’ll catch up with you in an hour or so, okay? Meet me by the exit and we’ll come back here.” I ran off before he could respond, and even though I felt his gaze burrowing into my back, I didn’t turn.

* * *

 

Harry’s POV

                I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I know, that’s a big surprise, huh? I’m sure no one would ever think that anything could possibly confuse me, of all people, to that degree. Anyway. Since when did Murphy ditch me with criminal scumbags? Hadn’t she invited me out because she thought I was upset or something? And since when did she have old friends that I hadn’t met before? I was about to chase after her, but Marcone caught me easily by the arm and kept me where I was.

                He wasn’t acting much like himself either, pretending to be all nice and normal and stuff. Hell’s Bells, he didn’t even look like himself just then! No, he looked more like the teenagers Murphy and I had seen. It really wasn’t fair that he had as much to show off as he did. No man of his age should be allowed to wear t-shirts that tight and look good in them; it just makes guys like me feel even more inadequate.

                “Can I ask why you have something against me following my friend, Johnny?” I asked, and he let out this warm laugh.

                “She didn’t seem to want to. I promise I won’t let you get kidnapped, Harry; you don’t need your keeper at the moment.” I might’ve pouted, but only a little.

                “Asshole. Looks like your pals ditched you too, so I don’t know why you sound so smug.”

                “I can’t be angered with Ms. Gard and Mr. Hendricks for wanting a bit of privacy; they don’t get enough time to go out together, and I can’t begrudge them for taking this time. Besides, I’m sure they can think of far more interesting things to do at a carnival with just one another than they can with me tagging along.” He waved the words off as if they were meaningless, and I sighed.

                “Whatever. I guess you probably won’t kill me in the middle of a carnival, kids around and all that. Where were you heading, anyway?”

                “Honestly? I wanted to play some of the games,” he told me with a smile, and no, just no. Criminal lords are not allowed to want to play carnival games. It goes against all laws of nature. I stared at him and gaped, hoping the whole time that he would tell me that he was just joking, and wow, wasn’t I stupid, thinking that More-Evolved-Than-You Johnny Marcone would stoop to the level of carnival games. That didn’t happen.

                “Oh. Oh. You’re serious, aren’t you?” He broke into a surprised laugh and began walking away. I trailed along after him, but only because I was so bemused.

                “It really shocks you that much? I am human, Harry, surprising though that might be. I used to play those games constantly; I’ve gotten quite good at them over time, if you’d particularly like a teddy bear or something.” I blinked slowly as we came upon the row of games with colorful prizes lining the rows, most of them representing bizarre mixtures of animals that I had no names for. Honestly, the only thing there that I had a taste for was the fancy pinwheel. I’ve always liked pinwheels, no idea why. I mean, it wasn’t like they were particularly interesting, or complicated, I just… liked them. John saw me looking at it, somehow, and I just called him John, didn’t I? Oops. Anyway. “You want that?” he asked me, and it didn’t sound judgmental or anything, just, you know, querying.

                “I can win my own prizes, scumbag,” I said, striding towards the booth. He followed me with this really amused expression that really, really pissed me off, and we each got into one of the two separate lines that was running, both of us standing behind some teenaged boy. Apparently this booth was full of boys who wanted to show off for their little girlfriends, and win them prizes, and stuff. I wondered how much Murphy would kill me if I won her that weird pink elephant. I was guessing a lot. Anyway, eventually the line progressed and Marcone and I were standing in front of the counter. We both handed one of the people working the booth (which contained a dart throwing game) a ticket. The boys who’d been in front of us had gone back to their respective girlfriends’ sides empty handed, and were now behind us to try once more. Poor kids. It was then that I realized how stupid I probably looked, playing a children’s game. For a pinwheel. Damn it.

                Oh, well, I guess; in for a penny, in for a pound, and I’d already given the guy my ticket. He handed me three darts, and I balanced the first one carefully in my hand, testing the weight of it. I flung it towards the balloons with a quick flick of my wrist, and it proceeded to thud into the corkboard from which the balloons hung. From beside me, I heard a satisfying pop as Johnny’s dart met its mark. Well, obviously that meant I was going to have to hit the next one. No way was he going to better than me at this! I decided conveniently forget the fact he probably threw sharp pointy things all the time in his day to day life, just for kicks, as I picked up the next dart. I tossed it with another flick of my wrist, this time concentrating more on aiming it than throwing it super-duper hard. It hit one of the balloons, yeah, and for a second I thought I did it because I heard a pop, but then I realized that my dart had fallen to the ground, having not been thrown hard enough, and the pop I heard had come from Marcone’s side. Again. Because he’s a bastard.

                I picked up the third dart perhaps a bit more roughly than necessary, but I don’t think I can be blamed. I aimed quickly and proceeded to throw it as hard as I could, and I was almost certain I’d hit it because it was heading right for one. It proceeded to hit the corkboard maybe a millimeter beside one of them. The noise of that was drowned out by a third and final pop. Of course.

                “I really hate you, John. You know that, right?” He only smiled and informed the guy working his side that he wanted the pinwheel. I figured he was just being an ass until he handed it to me, a soft smile curling his lips. The girls were staring at him as I took it, for some reason honestly worried that he’d managed to booby trap it in the ten seconds it had been in his possession. Nothing happened, though. The girls continued staring, except for now they were whispering to each other and pointing. I cleared my throat and got out of the way so the boys could take their next turn. Once again, they failed miserably, and proceeded to glare at John. We left after that, I assumed so the children wouldn’t be tempted to punch the smug asshole in the face. We didn’t go far, though, instead just a couple booths down, where John saw what he said was his favorite game, the milk bottle thing. I knew I was absolutely awful at that one, though (once upon a time, I’d played the damn thing all the time, but I’d only one maybe once before) so I decided to just sit it out and wait with the girls who were also watching on the bench.

                They stared at me as John got in line, and I felt kind of stupid holding my fancy new pinwheel (it really was pretty; it had this cool, spirally design on it, and all the colors were new and vibrant) so I settled it across my thighs, one hand draped on it to keep it from sliding off or blowing away.

                “Is he your boyfriend?” one of the girls, a really thin redhead, asked me. I blinked.

                “What? No! We’re hardly even friends.” I don’t know why I got that defensive with a high school girl, I really don’t. I couldn’t even use the excuse that she reminded me of Molly, who I’m allowed to be all defensive at, because they looked absolutely nothing alike. She laughed.

                “You don’t have to lie about it! He’s really hot,” she said, and oh, Hell’s Bells, I did not hear that. I didn’t. Nope, nope, nope. That high school kid absolutely did not call Marcone hot. I just imagined it. Yup, yup, yup.

                “Not lying,” I might’ve squeaked, and suddenly all of the girls were surrounding me. The boyfriends got kind of annoyed because their girlfriends, who they were trying to impress, were now looking elsewhere.

                “Aw, he’s so cute!” one of them said, and she had the nerve to scruff my hair.

                “I see why they’re together now! Oh, look, look, the boyfriend is going up now! Do you think he’ll win?” He probably would. He’s an ass like that, you see. He had said he liked this game, after all, and I was pretty sure that he was the sort of guy who insisted on being good at everything he liked. He let his eyes flick over to me and my new coat of teenage girls, a tiny smirk curling his lips, and oh, Stones, he was showing off, wasn’t he? He was. I sighed because of course. How could he possibly do anything else? He tossed the first ball from hand to hand lightly, and then turned his steady gaze back to the game. Needless to say, he toppled the towers with truly embarrassing ease. All the high school boys around him looked really, really bothered by this, especially when they looked over at the bench and realized that their girlfriends were giggling. Marcone got a stupidly large prize, a penguin, and I had to admit it was cute, with its fluff and its… well, it was a penguin. I am a human, despite being such an amazing badass; I have to find penguins cute. He tossed it to me and I caught it on reflex.

                “Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asked me, and I’m enough of a man to admit that I blushed. Anyone would, really, when someone who looked like Johnny did threw them a stuffed animal and called them sweetheart. He was still an ass, though.

                “Fuck off, scumbag,” I grumbled, and it was then that I wondered why I didn’t just leave. It wasn’t like I had to hang out with him or anything. And yet here I was, still following him, still sitting around and watching him play games and win prizes (all of which, beyond the pinwheel, got given to some wandering kid who also couldn’t beat the games) and he got showier and showier the farther down the game row we went. I mean, he actually had the gall to do some kind of trick shot on the basketball game, and I’m pretty sure he almost made some of the teenagers cry.  

                “You know, Harry, you could play a little yourself,” he said, his walk slow and easy beside me.

                “Nah; I might be tempted to cheat, kind of like that kid at the last game was.” He tilted his head a little, raised his eyebrow to display curiosity, but while I’d gotten used to his particular brand of annoying, silent communication, I didn’t feel like indulging him just then.

                “I’ve run enough scams on these games, Harry. I’m quite sure I’d notice him cheating.” Of course he’d run carnival scams. Of _course._ I don’t know why I would possibly think he wouldn’t. I sighed.

                “He didn’t realize he was doing it, Johnny; he was a minor talent. He probably doesn’t know that either. Have you ever met one of those kinds of people who good things seem to happen to a lot? Or they’re good at something just because they really, really want to be? Most of them have a little magic; chances are, he was accidentally exerting a little will on the ball. He wanted it to go where he wanted it to go, and it did. I felt it, a little. Once again, he wasn’t throwing out enough for it to be exceptionally obvious, but then, he doesn’t have that much _to_ throw around.” John nodded.

                “It must be strange, to notice that sort of thing so easily. Sometimes I think I’d love to see the world you do.”

                “And other times?”

                “Other times I count myself lucky that I don’t.” He offered me a quick, easy smile, loose and bold across his mouth, flickering in his eyes. I snorted. “So, Harry, you say you’d be tempted to cheat; have you ever done it before?” I didn’t tense and I give myself credit for that.

                “Just once, years and years and years ago.”

                “Teenager?”

                “Yeah, about. I’d turned thirteen maybe a week before. We were living in northern Michigan, on some big property in some big house. I think the both of them had a name, but I don’t remember either of them.”

                “Too long ago?” He looked like he didn’t believe that, and he was trying too hard to sound indifferent. He was interested and he wanted to keep me talking. The funny thing is, I don’t know if this was really an accidental reveal, or if he wanted me to see. Maybe that’s one of the things about him that annoys me so damn much.

                “Maybe that’s part of it, I don’t know. Mostly it just never seemed all that important. I might’ve gotten told what everything was called once, my first day there. Anyway, the cheating was kind of a test; if I could get a prize from every booth playing with my magic, then we’d go out for dinner.”

                “We?” Still that same, forced indifference. Sometimes he really made me want to hit him. I still wondered why I wasn’t leaving.

                “My Master and I,” I said, and the word slipped out even though I didn’t mean for it to, even though I knew that it made Vanillas uncomfortable, “so I wouldn’t have to make dinner that night.” He took it… weirdly well, with nothing but a subtle widening of his eyes that quickly faded back to normal.

                “One of your foster parents then?” I nodded, slowly.

                “Yeah. He was a Wizard, too, big game and all. We did that maybe a month before he adopted my foster sister, and she ended up taking over the cooking after that. I never was very good at it, you know? He wasn’t either, though, so it was generally me or nothing, until she came along. Justin wasn’t ever good at much that didn’t have to do with magic.” He didn’t appear certain whether or not it was appropriate to smile, whether or not I found that fact amusing or not. I could see the process unfolding behind his eyes, the tick marks and the folder checks, as he digested my words.

                “True to his craft then?” I shrugged.

                “That’s one way to put it, I guess. Anyway, those were the good times, before everything else. He was good to me back then.”

                “But not later.” And of course he picked up on that. I don’t know why I keep trying to get around him with words; he’s got a fairy’s understanding of the damn things.

                “Is that really any of your business? Whatever, no. He wasn’t the best teacher. As a matter of fact, he was everything I’ve always strived not to be with Molly. I hated him. And then he died.” Apparently Marcone did have some sense of tact, because then he shut up. Or, at least he shut up about… that.

                “Alright. Well, Harry, shall we go on the Ferris Wheel? It seems we’ve just about run out of games.” He gestured vaguely towards the looming monstrosity a little ways in front of us, the focal point of the whole event. I stared at him.

                “Are you stupid? Me and a giant murdering wheel of death and destruction that runs on mechanics? Yeah, no, that’s not going to mix, Johnny boy.” He sighed.

                “Harry, you’ve been on television before, even if only briefly. You’ve ridden in my cars. That is a very old piece of equipment, much older than either of those things, and you will be on it for less than ten minutes. I’m quite certain that you will be perfectly alright for that period of time.” I really hate it when people get all logical on me like that. My walk got a little shifty and sway-y and I’m pretty sure he knew he had me because he took me by the wrist and dragged me into the line. He then proceeded to give the guy running the thing two tickets before I could say anything and drag me into the gently swaying basket before I could protest. Admittedly, I was maybe a little disgruntled by this. I hold that as the excuse for the stuff that went on after that.

* * *

 

                Okay, so, the ride started to move and I was concentrating really hard on keeping my magic in check so it didn’t break, and as such, I didn’t notice when John moved from his side to sit beside me. I jumped when he spoke.

                “Settle down, Harry, please,” he mumbled, and then his hand was on my face and he really did have the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.

                “Don’t call me that,” I finally managed, and he laughed, the sound of it low and almost hoarse in his throat, and no, no, we weren’t doing this, not right now, no. I should’ve known better than to not shove him away. I should have, I really should have. I didn’t, though. No, instead I let him worm his way farther into my space and then, oh, then, he was kissing me. Like, full on, lip to lip, kissing me. And I let him. As a matter of fact, I even let him put his arms around my waist, and then I put my own on his shoulders, very slightly around his neck. And I kissed him back. The little basket thingy swayed with the breeze and suddenly I realized we weren’t moving anymore. That seemed really unimportant in the grand scheme of things, so basically I just kept doing what I was doing. At least until he realized that we’d stopped moving, and oh, yeah, there was a guy on the ground yelling that they’d fix the thing as quickly as they could. And if you want one more cliché, we were right on the top. Obviously.

                “Harry,” John said, this funny smile on his face, and I knew exactly what he was thinking right then.

                “No. Shut up.” He chuckled and his eyes flashed with a mischievous light that quite honestly petrified me.

                “I’m flattered, really; I had no idea that I could make you lose control of yourself like that.” I flamed red, absolutely crimson, I felt it.

                “Shut _up_ , that wasn’t you. Could’ve happened with anyone. Maybe it just broke naturally.” And so I spouted off three entirely different excuses within a minute. Go me. John kept smirking, that light staying in his eyes, but at least he was polite enough not to mention it again. You know, right at that exact moment. I hold no delusions that such an embarrassing faux pas will not go unmentioned forever.

                “Whatever you say, Harry. Might I ask if perhaps that was at least a sign of mutual interest? I should hope I’ve finally made it obvious enough that I want to be with you.” Oh. Oh. Yeah. Maybe I short circuited a little, then, because those were the only thoughts cycling through my head for a bit. I couldn’t trust him, I knew that. I’d be a moron if I did. He only wanted to use me, to make me a weapon, to train me to his hand and point me where he wanted me. I wasn’t going to be that again. I wasn’t going to fall for someone showing the slightest interest in me again. It hurt enough the first twenty times, thanks a bunch. I wasn’t doing it again.

                “You don’t want me.” I said it quick, clean and clear, so he’d know that I knew, so he’d give up. He settled a hand gently on my thigh and I couldn’t look at him because the look in his eyes, the hurt, the stark desperation, the affection, were too obvious and I didn’t want to get sucked in by them. This was Marcone, I had to remember that, Marcone the criminal, Marcone who’d always, always wanted me to work for him, under him.

                “You don’t really believe that, Harry. Come now, look at me. I’m not hiding from you, you should feel honored. I’m letting you see, I’m not hiding anything. I hate her for what she did to you, Harry, I do. She hurt one of mine and I don’t stand for that. I love you, Harry, I do. I want you to be happy; I’d give you the universe if I thought you’d take it, if I thought there was the slightest chance it would put a smile on your face. I want to be the one to help you, to fight at your side, to patch your wounds, whether they be new or old. I love you so damn much and I despise how weak that makes me. I’ve worked for years to strip myself of weaknesses like that, Harry, and then you come in and you throw them all back on me like they were going out of fashion. That’s you, Harry, bad for business, frustrating, pain in the ass. And I love you more for that, no matter what Mr. Hendricks says.” I looked at him, like he asked, really looked at him, and I felt a twinge in my heart.

                I don’t know why, but I felt like he was telling the truth, being honest with me. It was stupid of me, I know, and maybe I just wanted it to be true. Maybe I just wanted someone to love me like that, beyond friendship, with no ulterior motives. You know, I’ve always thrived on being stupid.

                “You hurt me, John, and you know I can throw you through a building, right? I did it to a Loup Garou, I can damn well do it to you. Probably could make you go even farther. I’ve leveled up a lot since then, you know, and you weigh a whole hell of a lot less. Plus you couldn’t come at me with the teeth and the snarling and the claws and all those other implements of murder.” He cupped his forehead in his hand and just simply laughed.

                “Shall I take that as a yes?”

                “If it helps you sleep at night.” And then he kissed me again. The Ferris Wheel started moving again about an hour after that. Ahem. He did at least leave the mechanic a fifty, though, so hey. Bonus for him. We were wandering towards the exit when I finally thought of something else. “Hey, you know I’ve had an equal number of relationships in the past two weeks as I’ve had in my whole life up until now?” I saw his ego again, then, the same one he’d displayed while showing off at carnival games (and I still couldn’t get over all those poor disheartened boyfriends).

                “Is that so? I suppose four is going to be your maximum, then, because I must say you’re quite stuck with me at this point.” I had to snort, I really did.

                “Cocky aren’t you?”

                “No, just honest.” I stared at him because I wasn’t sure if this was adorable or just dumb. I decided to settle on a comfortable amusing and shake my head.

                “Wow. Just… wow, Johnny.” And wasn’t that all there was to say? He was a good guy (sort of, in his own way) and I did… I’d always liked him. I’d never particularly liked liking him, and maybe I never would, but I could live with it. It was something to try, though, this thing between us, something to explore. It was a new thing for me to poke, a new experiment, a new trial, and maybe I could find someone to make me happier on the way, someone to hold and touch and grin at and make jokes with and all that other good stuff. Maybe, in the long run, that was all I could ever really ask for anyway. I reached out and held his hand, and he didn’t even yell at me when I swung it back and forth in mine as we walked. Yeah, I decided, yeah. I could get used to this.

* * *

 

Murphy’s POV

                Hendricks and I were hanging out by the exit, his Amazonian having gone to fetch more fried chocolate bars because she’d developed an almost obsessive enjoyment of the things. The red head seemed to be pointedly not mentioning that, so I decided to do the same. Finally, though, he turned to me and spoke.

                “I knew there was a reason Boss had us come out here today. You’re trying to get him with Dresden, aren’t you? Never thought I’d see the day he got a man on the inside for an operation like _that._ ” I scratched my head and shrugged.

                “Yeah, well, he was throwing temper tantrums. I had to do something; hell, if I’d let that shit go on, he’d have probably started robbing banks and leaving Valentines with Harry’s name on them as calling cards just to get attention. Hendricks got this distant, considering look on his face, and then shuddered, obviously having the same opinion on that matter as me. That was when I thought of something. “Wait. You work with the guy. Have you been dealing with his moronic attributes for as long as I’ve been dealing with Dresden’s continued suicidal idiocy?” He gave me this flat look that I really wanted to master, and then nodded once, slow and precise.

                “Since he was about eighteen.” Oh. Oh, _hell._ I clapped him once on the shoulder because hey, at that point, we were kindred spirits.

                “And I probably just got them together. If they were annoying before, how bad do you think it’s going to be now? I mean, Harry’s probably going to go into snits every other week about how he isn’t Marcone’s girlfriend and can’t be bought and all that other shit.” Hendricks went wide eyed for second, this truly pathetic look crossing his face.

                “And Boss is going to get weirder about protecting him. And getting him presents. And oh, fuck, the pet names. And the jealousy. Christ. I need a drink. I need a good, stiff drink.” I thought about that for a minute, and then nodded slowly.

                “Yeah. I think I need one, too. Let’s wait for Gard, and then we’ll go. I’ll leave a note for them with the ticket guy.” Hendricks nodded back.

                “Sounds good. You wanna exchange tips on how to deal?” Uh huh. Definitely kindred spirits. Criminal or not, I was pretty sure I could learn to like that guy.   


End file.
